The Omniverse Chronicles Book II: Black and White
by MrBlack103
Summary: Finding himself at the centre of a war effort, in an alien galaxy and in a body not his own, Zander Renn is wishing it could all be over. Unfortunately, it will soon get a whole lot more personal...
1. Two Weeks

**As promised, the (I hope) highly-anticipated _sequel_ to Book I of the Omnivers Chronicles! Prepare for an insane amount of action and drama, suspense and intrigue and all that awesome stuff we call epicness. The Omniverse Chronicles has just become bigger and much, much badder. Without further a-do, *drumroll*... chapter one!**

* * *

**Two Weeks**

"_Verpine Two, you've picked one up!"_

"_I see him"._

"_This is Thor Seven, I'm beginning my run. Need some cover fire"._

"_On it, Seven. I've got your tail"._

"_I'm a woman, idiot"._

"_Can't hear you; too busy covering your ass"._

"_Seven and Five! Mutual respect. Remember that"._

"_Copy, Thor Leader"._

"_This is Two; I can't shake him!"_

"_Thor Two, this is Commander Renn. Come about the _Void_'s portside. PD guns will get you out"._

"_We will?"_

"_Yes, you will"._

"_We will"._

Another red and blue explosion lit up space. From his vantage point on the _Voidflare_'s bridge, Zander Renn squinted. He refused to look away from the raging battle before him. He stood fast against the assault on his senses. Only the quivering black fur at the base of his neck betrayed any sign of strain, and that was hidden behind a raised collar. His tail swept from side to side impatiently, brushing against the cold metal floor.

He hated the universes in that moment. Why had they seen fit to literally steal him from his home, almost kill him several times over and then dump the responsibility for the same thing happening to thousands of others on _his_ shoulders?

_Two weeks_. It had been two weeks since the madness that was the Lombax Civil War had started. Two weeks since he had been labelled an enemy by half of the race to which he should not have belonged. Two weeks since he, somewhat ironically, had fired the first shot. Two weeks of running from Jerec's fleet; of watching the fledgling 'Greater Polaris Security Sphere' steadily assimilate planet after planet after planet.

Two weeks of being the second most powerful lombax amongst the Loyalists, but of feeling more helpless than ever.

"Sir! The _Liberty _is taking offensive position".

Zander did not need to move his head, nor even his eyes, to focus his attention on the prow of Jerec's flagship, heading straight towards him. He had kept it in his sights ever since the battle started. From this angle, it resembled no more than a floating box, but that was just the forward-facing surface. To either side, he knew, lay rows of death-inducing barrels.

"Move to engage, pilot".

It was a good thing the _Voidflare_ had plenty of plasma of her own to spare, and plenty of hull.

The chaotic panorama before Zander shifted smoothly to the right as the pilot angled the omega-class battlecruiser to port.

Seemingly by some unwritten agreement, the _Liberty_ soon mirrored the move, revealing her armour-plated broadside.

"Increase power to starboard weapons and shields", said Zander quietly but clearly.

"Increasing power".

There was silence on the bridge as every crew member made a silent prayer to the powers that be. They had all gone through point-blank broadside engagements recently, and all knew that no capital ship, even one as well-crewed and well-equipped as the _Voidflare_, ever came out of one unscathed. You could probably have labelled each of the cleaner hull plates with a death toll.

Zander cursed the _Liberty_'s bridge for taking so long to come into view, but when it did, he sighed. The distinctive white outline of Jerec, the co-consul turned self-proclaimed dictator, could not be seen. Zander wished for one occasion where Jerec chose to meet him face to face. He would have relished the opportunity to order all batteries to fire directly at the _Liberty_'s bridge.

Everyone finished their prayers as the two ships passed each other. They were so close you could have taken a running jump between them.

"Steady", warned Zander.

The rest of the battle was forgotten while each ship blocked out half of the other's field of vision.

Someone somewhere blinked.

"Open fire!" roared Zander.

The _Voidflare_ once again lived up to its name as it brightened the dark void of space in a supernova of firepower. The shields rippled as they struggled to fend off the heat of the blaze erupting from the guns.

A moment later, the _Liberty_ returned fire.

The bridge rocked as round after round impacted the _Voidflare_'s broadside hard.

Zander almost fell over but refused to grip onto the handrail in front of him intended for exactly that purpose. He _dared_ the universes to knock him down now. He had been knocked down enough. The line had been drawn.

And to think, this orbital battle was merely for permission to use planet Igliak's surface; to be allowed access to Meridian City, the capital of the Polaris galaxy.

The battle to stop a certain golden-furred, brown-striped hero from being vaporised where he stood right at that moment.

It wasn't so heartening to know that Zander had three ships against Jerec's fifteen.

Ratchet _really_ needed to hurry up.

* * *

**I've really enjoyed writing all these action scenes. I truly have. And this one I certainly think is one of my better ones. I'm quite excited for the next few chapters. They all have pretty intense battles going on. Oh and yes, I have a detailed chapter-by-chapter plan now! Do tell me if it shows.**

**Any guesses what Ratchet's doing in Meridian City while the fleet is trying not to get... un-existed? I _can_ tell you it's not getting churros (although I wouldn't blame him if he stopped for one on the way. Damn those things are yummy).**

**Aaanyway... Reviews! Nao!**


	2. The Reckoning of the Q

**The Reckoning of the Q**

_Don't step on the crack_.

Those words echoed in Ratchet's mind as he navigated through the streets of Meridian City. Any other time, he would have laughed them off as superstitious nonsense, and he still did today. Despite making his way through a city that could very well be disintegrated at any moment, Ratchet knew he didn't need luck. No matter how lacking you were in luck, there were very few situations that a RYNO V could not handle. But when the entire population was cowering in their homes, leaving the streets empty of all but the occasional rodent, Ratchet needed something to focus his mind on _other_ than the very real possibility of a laser sight trained on the back of his head.

Ratchet wasn't scared, but it was still not healthy to think about it too much.

Of course, focused as Ratchet was, he didn't expect to be attacked by the wall that he didn't notice.

"Ow!"

"Ratchet, eyes up!" hissed Tristana, a woman slightly younger than him with bright orange fur and black stripes. Only an hour ago, she had been introduced to him as his third cousin two times removed. Or was it six times?

Regardless, she seemed to prefer the role of annoying little sister.

"Honestly, Tachyon must have been blind _and_ deaf if _you_ managed to beat him".

There was stifled chuckling from the three other Praetorian Guards with them. They silenced as soon as Ratchet shot them a cold look, but could not hide their smirks.

Tristana seemed quite proud of herself. Ratchet resolved to make her regret it later.

Looking up at the wall he had run in to, Ratchet identified the building as their target.

"Right, where's the door?"

"Ratchet, I seem to remember saying eyes up!"

"Yeah, and?"

Ratchet looked closer at the wall that was curiously door-shaped.

"_Oh_".

Tristana shook her head, smirking, and stepped forward while Ratchet was busy pretending he didn't exist. She flipped a switch and the door slid upwards smoothly, revealing a large hallway decorated with too many statues and busts of an all-too-familiar individual in spandex.

_Green_ spandex.

"All right, this way to the presidential office", said Ratchet, having been shocked out of his spell of embarrassment.

* * *

Being the president of the Polaris galaxy was more difficult than the job was made out to be. Sure, there were the very flattering public appearances, the audiences that would listen to _everything_ you said, not to mention the satisfyingly large hot tub in the ensuite.

However, there also happened to be the very real possibility of being the one everyone expected to save them when a space armada was knocking on your door.

Still, Galactic President Copernicus Lesley Qwark had made sure to make plans should such a thing occur. As such, when the first news of a fleet leaving warp space over Igliak reached his ears, he had not hesitated to make effective use of the ten-thousand bolt desk he had had installed the previous week.

Qwark heard a knock on the all-too-thin door, and made sure to tuck his arms in.

"Qwark, are you in there?" came a muffled voice.

The president tightened his vocal cords as much as he could bear, then offered an appropriate response.

"This is the president's secretary, Janet. He isn't here right now. Can I take a message?"

"Damn it, Qwark! Open up, it's Ratchet!"

"I already told you! Qwark's not here!"

There was some distorted muttering. Then a clang, like something had been slapped on the door.

"Qwark, we're coming in! Just stand away from the door".

"Stand away from the door? Why would I want to do tha-"

A loud and sharp cracking sound interrupted Qwark, followed by a screeching sound and a dull thud. Smoke filled the room.

Qwark swiftly buried his face in the floor, but was yanked out from under the desk by several sets of strong arms.

"Remind me why we're moving this guy to a safe house again? Look at him, he's useless!" said one of the lombaxes that Qwark found himself face-to-face with.

"Because the _vice_ president is a monkey".

Qwark then stood to his full height, almost scraping the ceiling, and thrust out his abnormally huge chest.

"I'll have you know you are looking at _Captain_ Qwark, hero of three galaxies! And vice-president Scrunch is more than capable of his duties".

Qwark's claim was only met by a grunt and a surprisingly firm grasp on his collar by an orange female.

"Greetings, Mister President", she said with a smile. "I'll be your chauffeur today, so please follow me and _shut up_ or I'll have to get Ratchet to pull his chimp-o-matic out and you can join your vice-president at the zoo".

Qwark turned to Ratchet and held his hand up to whisper to him.

"I don't think she likes me, Ratchet".

Before Qwark could see Ratchet's response, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head and he knew no more.

* * *

"What did you do that for?" demanded Ratchet, staring incredulously at the now unconscious Captain Qwark.

Tristana shrugged.

"Fine, but _you're_ carrying him", stated Ratchet.

Ratchet's cousin shot him a glare as she raised her wrist communicator. "We've got the man in tights. You flyboys going to pull us out or what?"

"_Tristie, I've told you a thousand times already! I'm 'Brick Patrol' and your squad is 'Sunday Pickup'!"_

Ratchet snorted. "_Tristie_?"

Tristana rolled her eyes back at him. "Does the code thing really matter anyway, Daddy? It's not like Jerec won't be able to guess why we're here".

"_We'll talk about this when you're back home, missy. I've locked on to your beacon now. ETA five minutes"._

"Thanks, Daddy". Tristana then shut off the transmission.

"So… now we wait?" asked Ratchet.

"That will not be necessary, Ratchet", said Clank from his back.

"Why? What's-"

Ratchet trailed off as he span around to find Jerec's pistol between his eyes. Ratchet instinctively reached for his belt, but stopped when the pistol was almost shoved through his brain.

"Don't even think about it", hissed Jerec.

Ratchet glanced about as his companions dropped their weapons, each with muzzles held to their temples by masked lombaxes. Ratchet recognised their armour as hyperflux plating, having worn it himself.

Jerec seemed to notice Ratchet's recognition.

"Do you like the new Praetorian uniforms? Securing Grummelnet headquarters has been rather beneficial. The Grummels even offered to fit each set of armour with a cloaking device for us. Such contraptions _do_ still leave the faint outline of their user, but lying in wait in the President's office, keeping very still… I'll leave the rest for you to work out".

"How did you get in without blowing the door like we did?" asked one of Ratchet's Praetorians.

Jerec rolled his eyes.

"The president of the _entire galaxy_ left the window open. We were actually waiting for you lot to come in the same way. Still, the light show was impressive".

Ratchet held back a hiss. Jerec seemed so _aloof_, as if he were better than everyone else in that room. Perhaps he thought he was.

"Why aren't you _up there_?" Ratchet said, looking briefly upwards to emphasise his point. "Shouldn't you be commanding the fleet?"

Jerec smiled slightly, then said in an alarmingly pleasant voice; "If you want something done properly, then do it yourself, especially when the son of Kaden is involved. I _don't _underestimate my enemies, Ratchet".

"Mister Jerec", piped up Clank. "I know you believe you are doing the right thing, but please, stop this".

"And let the chaos resume? The universe needs _order_, Clank, and as the rightful guardians of the galaxy, lombaxes have to make sure order comes about. It's only a matter of time before yet another villain rises up to plague us again. Azimuth had the right idea; we need to provide security. He simply made the mistake of trusting… _others_. Tell me, Ratchet, don't you want to retire, instead of save the galaxy every time it gets itself in trouble? Who is going to be the next Drek or Nefarious?"

"_You are_", growled Ratchet.

Upon those words, Jerec's ear twitched.

It was all Ratchet needed.

"Now!" he cried as he slapped his belt and a brilliant orange dome materialised around him.

Jerec stumbled backward in shock, but recovered quickly and fired his weapon.

The shot bounced right off the shield surrounding Ratchet, who slapped a button again and flipped out a large, orange frog-like creature mounted on a handle.

Jerec only had enough time to widen his eyes before the xenogote's lungs filled and the words _sonic eruptor_ registered in his mind.

"BUAAARRRP!"

Jerec was thrown back out the door and down the corridor, disappearing from view.

Ratchet swiftly drew his mag-net launcher and aimed it at the first of Jerec's Praetorians, who was in a wrench-lock with Tristana. After a moment's thought, he switched the power down to incapacitate, then he fired.

The lombax in black and red armour was swept off his feet and thrown against the far wall, twitching against the net of lightning that encased him.

Before Ratchet could move to the next enemy, a low humming sound filled the air. A boxy transport craft pulled up beside the open window then stopped, floating in midair. A hatch on the side slid away to reveal a single male lombax with identical markings to Tristana.

"Get in!" he yelled.

Ratchet glanced around to see the other armoured lombaxes advancing slowly towards him and his team, who were crouched around Qwark's massive body.

"Grab him and go!" commanded Ratchet.

Tristana nodded and, with a heave, lifted Qwark's shoulders and started dragging him towards the window. The other three batted away Jerec's lombaxes with their wrenches.

Ratchet shook his head at his own stupidity and quickly drew his tractor beam and pointed it at Qwark's limp form. He pulled the trigger and before Qwark had even floated off the ground entirely he flung the spandex-and-suit-clad superhero-gone-president into the waiting vehicle.

The others wasted no time in throwing themselves in after Qwark, and with another quick shot from his sonic eruptor Ratchet leapt out the window also.

The transport pulled away from the presidential complex without a word and began the ascent into space, leaving its passengers panting.

* * *

"Sir! Brick Patrol says extraction is complete!"

The bridge of the _Voidflare_ rocked again.

"Tell Verpine Squadron to give them an escort to the _Phoenix_'s hangar, and tell all ships to prepare for a warp jump on my signal".

Another salvo from the _Liberty_ sent tremors throughout the bridge.

_Come on, hold together_, thought Zander.

"Brick Patrol is docked!"

"Engage warp drive! Now!"

Then the stars turned to ribbons and the shaking ceased.

Zander slumped back into the captain's seat, sweating profusely.

_Another day, and it still continues_, he said to himself.

* * *

**Yep, that's right, another looooong-delayed chapter (though as a special treat it is longer than usual). I just got a bit stumped as to how to introduce the action sequence. Originally, Jerec was just going to walk in the door, but I thought "Where is the fun in that?" The cloaking device idea proved most useful in getting past it.**

**Be prepared, for as action-packed as this was, it is not long before the plot _really _thickens. And I mean that. Impossibilities _will_ become possible.**

**Damn it, I just want to tell you all right now! Jerec is...**

**_*CENSORED*_**

**There! I bet that blew your mind away, huh? I mean, how is that even possible? I just doesn't make sense! What kind of crazy writer would come up with that anyway?**

**Oh wait...**


	3. A New Target

**A New Target**

_Target acquired. Designation: Zander Renn. Destroy Targ-_

The thought processes of the test dummy robot were ended as its processors were crumpled under the force of a blow from Zander's wrench. The dummy collapsed in a heap of twisted wires and metal. Its motivators sparked once, then shut down for good.

"_Level one complete"_, said the training computer.

Zander wasted no time in regaining his focus. He swept his gaze over the floating platform. In the distance he could make out the glowing mesh that marked the boundaries of the simulation. Beside him, the test dummy's mangled corpse faded away as it was erased from the program.

"_Level Two"_.

A transparent cylinder descended from the ceiling and touched down on the arena. I whirred into life, smoke and sparks filling it for a few seconds, then lifted out of sight. In its place stood two more dummies, the black and yellow test symbols clearly visible on either side of their heads. They activated, then began floating towards Zander, who flourished his wrench and steeled himself.

The first of the two dummies came in hard and fast with a walloper. It threw its metal-gloved fist forward, which accelerated towards Zander with alarming speed and ferocity.

Zander barely threw himself out of the dummy's path in time. He felt the end of his tail tingle as the static-charged walloper brushed past it.

The black lombax had only just brought himself to his feet when the second dummy threw a miniature orb in his direction.

Thinking fast, Zander swung his wrench and knocked the object away mid-flight. Half a second later it was engulfed in a small explosion. Continuing the swing, Zander spun around and held tightly to his weapon as it drove into the chest of the first dummy, which had been mid-way through another charge. Zander kicked out backwards and managed to knock the second dummy away, forcing its next throw to fly clear of the arena.

Zander complete the combination by bringing his wrench down on the second dummy in a two-handed overhead swing, crumpling its armour. and shattering its circuit boards.

"_Level two complete"_.

Zander paid no heed to the computer. He swung again, grinding what was left of his adversary into the floor, and again, and again.

With a harsh cry, Zander hit the dummy's remains from an angle, sending them skittering across the floor to drop off the edge.

"You okay, buddy?"

Zander jumped at Ratchet's unexpected statement. He spun around to see the golden-fur standing casually on the other side of the platform.

"I'm… I'm fine!"

Ratchet raised one eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" He walked over and placed his hand on Zander's shoulder.

Zander immediately twisted away from the contact, his flared jacked whipping about. He took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Ninety-three", he said quietly.

"What?"

"Ninety-three", repeated Zander. "I lost ninety-three over Igliak. It's our highest casualty rate yet. That makes three hundred and forty-four in total; more than the entire twenty _years_ with the cragmites on that scrap world. All in two _weeks_".

"So you're taking out your anger on training bots?"

"That… and my _frustration_. It goes on and on, Ratchet. We station ourselves over the next important planet, Jerec brings the main portion of his fleet to engage us, we fire a few shots, and then warp out of the system. What happens when we run out of planets? I _want_ to stay and fight, Ratchet. But if I do, we'll _all_ die, and it'll be my fault".

"You've changed, you know", said Ratchet. "What happened to the guy who just broke down in Kerchu City?"

"I'm in charge of a _fleet_ now, Ratchet. I _can't_ collapse like I did back then".

"So that's where the dummies come in?"

"It is".

"It's not healthy, buddy".

"I know".

Ratchet paused for a while, giving Zander time for the message to sink in. He was resorting to violence to solve his problems with violence. Zander wished he knew some other way, and even if he did there was still the impossible strategic situation that he found himself in.

"The intel officer's looking for you, by the way", said Ratchet.

Zander looked back at him and frowned.

"We have an intelligence service? What did they want?"

"He said there was an urgent meeting for me, you and a few others on the bridge. Something about stuff we would want to know. I was just heading over there when I saw you were using the training suite".

* * *

The bridge of the _Phoenix_ was silent as Ratchet, Zander, Leliana, Clank and Max Apogee waited for a brown lombax with white stripes to speak. The intelligence officer, so far unnamed, wore a tattered cloth uniform. His fur was no better looking; it was matted haphazardly. Zander imagined that if you pulled away a single lock, you would find the skin crawling with lice.

"He's the best we've got", Leliana had told him. "I don't know how he did it, but he seemed to always know everything about the cragmites. In fact, he's the only one I can tolerate not knowing everything about besides you".

"Two weeks ago, to the day, Jerec abducted one of our top scientists", the brown lombax finally said. His voice was raspy, to the point where Zander could not work out if he even had a voice.

The intelligence officer flipped a switch and the bridge's view screen activated to show a dull green planet, as viewed from space. Almost immediately, the viewpoint started to zoom in.

"The captive is being held on planet Cobalia, in the gelatonium extraction plant there. The purpose for which they are being held is unknown at this stage, but they are the only captive on location and security is very high, so it can be concluded that Jerec considers it important".

"And anything that Jerec thinks is important is important for us to stop", surmised Zander.

"Correct. You can see now on the view screen the plant coming into view. I have highlighted the most likely room to be used as a prison. It is deep in the complex, only has two approaches and only one way in. The walls are two feet thick, so any possibility of blasting a new entrance without harming the occupant is eliminated".

The speaker then fell silent, and watched the others as if waiting for a reaction.

"What is the scientist's name?" asked Leliana.

"You were all gathered here because you know her personally".

Zander's eyes widened as he realised what the officer's words implied.

"Her name is Angela Cross. Good luck in whatever course of action you choose to take".

Without a word, the officer then left.

* * *

**Yay! Two updates in succession! Gee I'm a spoilsport...**


	4. Drop Ship

'**Drop' Ship**

Zander sat with his head bowed, trying to ignore the pulsing shudder of the drop ship's engines. He winced at every vibration that travelled from the wall at his back and into his spine. He would have leant away from the wall to avoid the constant shocks to his vertebrae, but he was strapped in tightly by his harness. At least it stopped him from flying out of his seat every time the cramped craft bucked about in the turbulence of Cobalia's skies.

About the hold sat the rest of the strike team to rescue Angela, all with the same dark expression as they silently checked and cleaned their weapons. Ratchet, in the seat to Zander's right, was the exception, whistling some improvised and not at all catchy tune. Clank was going to join in as well, but he was currently assisting the pilot in navigating towards the best drop zone.

"_You need a good fight"_, Ratchet had said.

Zander, of course, had argued against having a place on the team, stating that he was needed to command the fleet, would probably get killed and that there were plenty better-suited lombaxes to the operation than he was. He didn't express his reluctance to see Angela again so soon, especially given the awkward situation he found himself in last time he spoke with her.

In the end, Leliana had the final word, though Zander suspected she was merely acting on her son's behalf and her own opinions were not involved. As hard a woman as she was, family seemed to have a profound hold over her.

Seeing little else to do while he waited, Zander reached down and drew his new weapon from the holster that was now strapped to his thigh. It was a simple-looking pistol, but the single glowing blue panel on either side betrayed its power. It was a repulsor weapon, so instead of a basic laser beam it fired a concentrated shockwave. Under normal circumstances it wasn't lethal, and injury depended upon what the target was thrown against by the impact of the shot. However, this particular one was equipped with its own microscopic fusion core, so it had the capacity to shatter concrete on the higher settings. Zander kept it set to 'mild concussion'. He had been the subject of too many broken bones already and he didn't want to be witness of many more.

"We are near to the drop zone", said Clank as he exited the cockpit.

There was a chorus of rustling and clicking as the team of twelve all released their harnesses, stood and holstered their weapons. Zander did the same and for a moment smiled in satisfaction at the convenient placing of his weapon's own holster. It was right where his hand hung if he let his arm drop.

"Alpha Team, form up!" ordered the strike team's leader, Captain Matthews. Zander fell into place quickly. At first he had found it hard to suddenly take the place of a simple grunt, but he had learnt quickly that following orders in a timely fashion was not optional.

The team formed two columns of six, facing the large panel doors, which now had a red light on above them.

"Hover packs!" thundered Matthews.

A series of panels in the low ceiling flipped open and a metallic backpack for each team member, except Ratchet, dropped down.

Without thinking, Zander reached up, grabbed his and strapped it on over his jacket. He clasped a pair of buckles over his chest. Then he realised something. Hover packs were made to simply slow a descent when activated. That meant, in this situation, they could only mean one thing.

"Go! Go! Go!" came the order as the hatch opened to reveal an open misty sky.

A HALO jump.

Zander took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he ran out into the abyss.

* * *

_It can't be_, thought Angela as she stared at the console in front of her, not believing the results of her latest test._ Everything confirms it, and it's technically possible, but… There's just no _way_ it could be true… better check again._

The door of the bright lab slid open with a hiss, and Angela twisted to see Jerec standing just outside.

"Oh. It's _you_" she said, then turned back to her work. She hid her relief that Jerec was not a genetic scientist. If he were, he would be able to read the results in front of her, and who knows what he would do if he knew. Jerec was already insane enough.

Without invitation or declaration, Jerec's footsteps struck out an even tempo as he moved toward her. They stopped, and Angela tensed at the feeling of his breath on the fur on the back of her neck.

"What's your progress, honey?" he said.

She ignored his sickly-sweet tone, and answered plainly.

"I've just gotten past the main problem. I know how to reverse it now".

"Good, good…"

Jerec fell silent, leaving Angela to feel cramps begin to build up in her tensed muscles.

"I can be finished in a few days" she said, trying to satisfy his curiosity and get him to leave.

"Thank you, Angela. You know how much this means to me".

"I'm not doing it for you".

Jerec took a sharp breath.

"Yes, Zander wants to change back as well, doesn't he? I think it's the only thing I can agree with him on".

Angela huffed.

"If you're done here, can you just leave me to work? I've still got a lot of tests to do".

"What does he have that I can't give you, honey?"

"What? You think I dumped you because there was someone else? I dumped you because you're a racist _jerk_. A racist I can tolerate, even like; everyone has flaws. But one that thinks they can have everyone they don't like executed?"

"He tried to take over Angela! He's succeeded with half of us already!" Jerec shouted.

Angela dropped her ears, trying to block him out.

"I don't have anything more to say to you. Just get out and I'll finish your precious project".

Jerec was silent for a few moments, then turned and swept out of the lab. The door sealed behind him.

"Computer, re-run all tests and calculate probability", said Angela after wiping a stray bead of moisture from her cheek.

The computer whirred and buzzed, then the results scrolled across the console:

_All tests positive. Probability of result: zero point zero recurring two._

* * *

**Yep, that's right, _another_ chapter! I'm just churning these things out this week. It seems having an actual plan helps.**

**Poor Zander, he thought they would do that thing they call 'landing'. XD**

**If you haven't done a reasonable level of maths, you might not get what the last line means in a literal sense. The number at the end, on top of being relevant to the current situation, also contains a clue as to _distant_ future events (at least several books away). I'll just leave it there and see what people come up with. I bet no one will get it. It's pretty subtle.**


	5. True Fear

**True Fear**

_Ground_; solid _ground_. Zander never thought he would have ever been so glad, so _overjoyed_ to simply lie down on it. There was no snow, only the dry and weedy earth, but he was still sorely tempted to make a dirt-angel then and there. The feeling of gravity was such a glorious thing. To be grounded, cemented in place after having no sense of left and right, up or down for a whole thirty seconds was simply bliss.

"Renn! Get your ass moving before I have to move it for you! This is the _army_, not that sissy space opera you call a military force!"

Bliss never lasted for long.

Fuelled by the motivation that only Captain Matthews could induce, Zander jumped to his feet and looked at his surroundings for the first time.

Shadowy undergrowth surrounded the dry clearing on all sides. Zander's eyes could not pierce the darkness for more than a few feet past the first broad leaves in any direction. The rustling of some unknown creature just out of sight could be heard, and from further away came discordant birdsong. Zander would have called it a jungle, but there was no sign of moisture. The ground was hard, and dust was tossed up as the rest of the squad shed their hover packs and dumped them in a pile. How there was so much greenery was beyond him.

Zander shed his pack alongside the others then felt a light tap on his knee. He looked down to find Clank peering up at him.

"Are you all right, Zander?"

"Apart from the fact that I'm about to break in to then out of a high-security facility with little to no actual combat experience, I'm fine. Why?"

Clank narrowed one eye and tilted his head.

"You seemed quite…vocally active during the HALO jump".

"I know, I know, my screaming wasn't really befitting of a commander of the fleet that's trying to save the galaxy, was it?"

"Yet you do not flinch when you are directing that fleet into combat. Through highly improbable happenstance, you also happened to be the one that could bring the lombaxes back to this galaxy-"

"Just so they could have a civil war".

"-and you have managed to survive no less than fifteen potentially deadly encounters since you first arrived on Veldin. I cannot bring myself to believe that you are a coincidence".

"_Fourteen_; the pirates don't exactly count. Besides, is this _really _the time to make me think about my place in the universe?"

Clank regarded Zander for a moment.

"Perhaps not", Clank said, then trotted waddled away to join Ratchet.

It was not long before Captain Matthews, by his inspiring rhetoric, got the squad moving south towards their target. As they crept deeper into the undergrowth, Zander detected a growing stench. To his amusement, it smelt just like his year eight lockers had after someone had dropped a half-eaten egg sandwich behind them. Nobody ended up confessing to the act, so the teachers had decided to leave it there. Fortunately, everyone only had to endure it for one week before the June holidays came around.

The wicked odour became almost unbearable by the time its source was revealed. The squad emerged from the greenery to find themselves in an open area dominated by a series of murky bogs. Zander was on the verge of asking if he could borrow Ratchet's O2 mask. Luckily, there was a clear path of dry ground to the other side of the bog, where the earth dropped off to form a massive canyon-like abyss. Greenish fog rolled about in the chasm, hiding its contents from view.

"Good. They won't be able to see us in that fog until we're already inside", said Captain Matthews.

"So the facility's just down there?" asked Zander.

"Yeah", said Ratchet. "Me and Clank went there ages ago".

Zander didn't mention that he knew Ratchet had already been there before. It would needlessly complicate the current situation, and his tactical instincts were telling him something was wrong.

"Uh… Where are the patrols?" he said hesitantly, as though that one question would doom them all.

"Patrols?"

"Yes. You'd think Jerec wouldn't just let _anyone_ walk right up to the plant, would you?"

"Oh, don't worry" said Ratchet. "There's so many leviathans up here that the patrols are already taken care of for you".

"Leviathans? As in the 'giant worm with energy attacks' kind?"

"Yeah, those levia-"

Ratchet was cut off by a desperate call from the other side of the group.

"Leviath-!"

It was followed by a shriek and then a sick crunching as the soldier's scream faded out.

Zander turned around to lay eyes on the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. It wasn't the leviathan's sheer size that scared Zander, even though it was as long as a bus. It wasn't the leviathan's apparent ability to fly, or the crackling arcs of energy skipping from one segment of the leviathan's body to the next. It wasn't the predatory glare in its eyes that scared him, either.

What _truly_ scared Zander was the lump of bloodied orange fur hanging from one of the leviathan's teeth.

"Open fire!" roared Matthews.

Zander could only stand and watch, frozen to the spot, as the leviathan disintegrated in the storm of plasma. It didn't even have time to react; it simply stopped existing.

"Who did we lose?" asked Matthews grimly as he glared at the leviathan's carcass. The biggest piece of it, anyway.

"Private Lakar, sir", said a female soldier. "We lost Ben".

"Why the kid?", muttered Matthews. "Why is it _always_ the kid?"

Despite the colour of his fur, Zander could feel himself paling. His mouth tasted of stomach acid. Sure, he had heard the dying screams of hundreds over the coms of the _Voidflare_'s bridge, but this was different; _totally _different. To go out in a ball of fire, or by explosive decompression or even the stray fragment of shrapnel was terrible, but this wrenched Zander's primal instincts from the uncivilised portion of his mind that evolution had long forgotten; the raw urge to avoid becoming prey.

Only now did Zander know what true fear felt like.

Then his vision faded to black and he felt more weightless than he had during the HALO jump.

* * *

**I wasn't planning on the whole leviathan deal at all, but it sort of just _happened_. I figure Zander needs a few more issues to deal with between now and the _thing_. Plus, the rescue will now be even more chaotic than planned!**

**Anyway, all my plans are now pushed back by one chapter, so there's still a few thousand words until I let you all in on the _big, massive, shocking_ secret. Of course, with me playing up how shocking it is it might actually not be so shocking once I get to it. Oh well.**

**Just realised how dark this chapter got. Do tell me if it's too much. I hope I got enough comic relief in there.**

**EDIT: Also, I've just re-read the ratings guidelines. Is it possible that the level of violence/description of gore in this fic makes it M? I'm just wary about pushing the rating up for fear of people assuming that my fic will contain lemons. Any advice?**


	6. Fortuitous Misfortune

**Fortuitous Misfortune**

Angela was scribbling notes on the blueprint for her latest invention when the alarms began. She had to flatten her ears against her scalp to stop the shrill wailing of the siren that just happened to have been placed directly over her desk. Despite her skull feeling like it would split open, Angela was relieved at the noise. It was about time.

With well-planned efficiency, she rolled up the plans that had been laid out before her and shoved them up her sleeve. She leapt up from her seat and ran over to the lab's main console. She tapped a few keys, prompting a silvery disk to slide out of a slot at waist level. Before it had even finished ejecting, she ripped the disk out of the slot and stuffed it somewhere that she knew would be a topic of discussion later. She didn't have any pockets.

She ran over to the lab's entrance and gave the room a final sweep. Deciding she had not been thorough, she dashed back over to the console and unplugged it. She didn't stop there, either. She proceeded to pull the front panel off the computer and then rip out every circuit board she could reach. After each one had come out, she snapped them in half over her knee. Immediately after she had finished dismantling the console, she performed a similar operation on the racks of test tubes on the other side of the room.

Angela, satisfied with her handiwork, started to move towards the door again but as she passed a set of mechanical drawers she had an idea.

"Computer, give me genetic serum seven-thirteen".

A drawer in the right hand side of the set opened, then a glass tube flipped out. Angela grabbed it, pulled it out, then hurried the rest of the way to the exit. The steel door was sealed, but she had planned for this. She stepped to the side and pressed her back flat against the wall.

She concentrated on slowing her breathing and waiting for the right moment, the alarms still wailing around her. She thumbed the button on one end of the tube that was still in her hand, but did not press it yet. Then the door slid open and a lightly armoured lombax guard stepped through, a rifle slung across his shoulder.

The guard stopped after taking only two steps forward, staring dumbly at the multi-coloured liquids and shards of glass strewn across the floor.

"What the f-"

Before the guard could complete his sentence, Angela depressed the button on the tube and shoved it into his back just as a slender needle popped out of the other end.

"-ack!"

The guard immediately collapsed to the floor. Angela didn't move, still holding the now empty syringe. She stared keenly at his limp form, waiting.

All at once, the guard's body began to change. His tail slid across the floor, shrinking into his backside. His hips popped and morphed, and his chest swelled.

Angela grinned when the guard stopped changing.

"It works", she stated with pleasant surprise and hurried out of the door, leaving the guard to wake in _her_ own time.

* * *

"How's our resident commander going?" yelled Captain Matthews over his shoulder without slowing his stride. His voice carried easily down the hallway despite the sounds of weapon fire that came from the other direction.

Ratchet adjusted his grip on Zander's wrists before answering, trying not to let the _resident commander_'s feet drag behind him.

"He's better than I am!" shouted Ratchet back. He soon felt one of the soldiers take one of Zander's arms and half the weight on Ratchet's shoulders disappeared. "Thanks", he said.

The soldier grunted in response.

If it weren't for the fact that there were hundreds more leviathans in the swamps high above their heads, Zander would have been left where he had fainted. Ratchet's mother would not be too happy if her star strategist became lunch. Ratchet just hoped Zander would wake up soon.

A stray beam of plasma clipped the fur on the tip of Ratchet's ear, prompting him to jog faster through the seemingly endless passage regardless of the weight on his shoulders. His assistant increased his pace to follow.

Some distance ahead, Captain Matthews disappeared round a corner. Ratchet followed Clank round after him. Clank had agreed to go on foot, since Ratchet needed as little unnecessary weight on his back as possible. The robot instead opted to borrow Zander's pistol and wield it with surprising dexterity for his size. Maybe it was all his practice with Qwark's Banana-Guided-Automated-Monkey-Device.

Around the corner was another hallway no more than fifty metres long. All fire ceased as the last soldier came around. At the end of the passage was a large, thick-looking steel door. It had a massive mechanical bolt slid across it.

"Any idea how we get in?" said Ratchet, laying Zander on the floor as he approached.

"I believe I may be of assistance" said Clank, dropping Zander's pistol and morphing his hand into a small laser. "My geo-laser should be powerful enough to cut through, but it will take some time".

Captain Matthews nodded.

"Squad! Cover Clank while he makes a door in the door!"

Without hesitation, all eleven conscious lombaxes arrayed themselves in front of the door, weapons raised. Their pursuers had not yet come around the corner, but Ratchet could hear the approaching footfalls as he pulled out an old favourite. The weapon was large; as large as he was, and its broad barrel only hinted at its power.

"Where'd you get _that_ beast?" whispered the guard who had been helping to carry Zander.

"Galactic Rangers; standard issue heavy weapon", replied Ratchet casually as he loaded the shock cannon. "'It's gotten a bit better since I got it".

"Oh".

All fell quiet, except for the klaxons still blaring. Ratchet tightened his finger on his shock cannon's trigger. Then something in the middle of the hallway, just in front of the squad… rippled. Before Ratchet even registered what the ripple meant, his lungs were instinctively spewing forth the warning.

"Shadow Praets!"

In response, the ripples disappeared and in their place were three black-armoured lombaxes, their faces hidden behind visors with glowing red eye slits. The Shadow Praetorians, as the loyalists had decided to label them, charged, swinging their wrenches with precision.

Normally, only three attackers would not be a problem, but these were Praetorian Guards. They had no association with the lombax militia that was the regular army. They were professional commandos. Three were more than a match for the inexperienced soldiers at Ratchet's side.

Ratchet regretted choosing his shock blaster. He had planned on firing it at the wave of attackers as it ran down the hallway, but the cloaking devices in the Praetorians' armour meant the expected ranged engagement was turned into a melee.

The squad of soldiers could not draw their wrenches in time to stop the first two of them falling to the arcing wrenches of the Shadow Praetorians. Four more fell before the squad pulled together and managed to form a defensive line. The black-armoured commandos hesitated, examining the formation of Captain Matthews, Ratchet and the three remaining soldiers. Neither side could risk advancing without coming within striking range.

Ratchet had, by instinct, pulled out his own omniwrench. Despite its multitude of features, including a kinetic tether, box breaker and bolt magnet, it felt woefully inadequate. Ratchet knew that he was at a disadvantage when it came to pure hand-to-hand combat; a rocket from a negotiator solved most problems, but the time it took him to draw and fire now would see him knocked out before he could blink.

Nobody moved as Ratchet milled over an idea. He didn't like the idea, but it seemed the only option in this situation.

Ratchet drew his razor claws… and lunged.

The Praetorians raised their wrenches to block, but the rippling wave of energy that lanced from Ratchet's fists sliced all three clean in two. The energy carried forward and stabbed into flesh.

The lombaxes in black armour collapsed without a sound and the light in their visors flickered out.

Ratchet stood in shock at what he had just done. Back on Igliak, he had exercised restraint. But now, he stared at the product of the side of himself that had emerged many years ago in the battle with Ace Hardlight at Dreadzone and had long since been buried. Now, right in front of him, were the bodies of those he had killed. _Lombaxes_ he had killed. Not long ago, he was overjoyed by their very existence, but now he had _killed_ three. He felt a hand on his ankle.

"I know, Clank".

"Clank's still working on the door", said Zander from his spot on the floor. "I saw the entire thing. It wasn't your fault".

Ratchet nodded. Then a call echoed from the other end of the hallway.

"The Praets are down! Where's that porta-ment?"

"Clank, are you done yet?" said Captain Matthews hurriedly.

"I have completed 74 per cent of the cut".

"Make it a hundred! Now!"

Zander, hauling himself to his feet shakily and picking up his discarded weapon, gave the Captain an inquiring look.

"Portable battlement", Matthews explained. "Solid block of raritanium with a giant ass gun on top. The Centre for Advanced Lombax Research made it to defend against cragmite heavy vehicles… and everything else. Only way to counter it is to stop it being set up in the first place".

On cue, a low rumbling filled the corridor, and around the corner came a technological monster. Captain Matthews had described it quite well. The chassis was no more than a metal brick with treads attached. The rumbling ceased as it stopped in the middle of the junction between the two passageways. With a creaking, four large claws extended out. The treads then retracted into the frame, lowering the entire construct to the ground and driving the claws downward, securing it into position. Then a hatch opened in the top and what could only be described as a _giant ass gun_ rose out of it.

Ratchet gulped as the massive chain gun locked into place and rotated to face the group.

"Okay, we're screwed".

"I have completed the cut", said Clank.

"Everyone through! Get in there!"

Immediately, the three soldiers leaped over to the door and shoved the section that Clank had cut away. It shook in its place, but did not budge.

The chain gun began to spin and a whirring filled the corridor.

"Hurry it up, men!"

With a scraping, the block of metal fell inward with a crash.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Like rodents, everyone scrambled through the hole in the door and ducked around the corner just as the chain gun started roaring and a hail of lead rattled against every surface.

"That thing can't fit in here, right?" asked Ratchet when he saw nobody had been hit.

"No. They're meant for battlefields, not indoors".

Once he had caught his breath, Ratchet looked about the empty room.

"Uh… Where's Angela?"

Shrugs were all Ratchet got in response. They were pinned down by an invincible machine of destruction… in the wrong room.

"This is _not_ good".

* * *

**Angela's serum? Yeah, I went there. If you can use inter-species transformations as weapons (morph-o-rays), why not inter-gender?**

**To make things clear, the lombax military is split up into three arms - the navy, the army and the Praetorian Guard. The navyis that which Zander currently commands, and has large control over strategy because of its transportation nature. The army is made up of volunteers and reserves (and conscripts if desperate). The army knows what it's doing, because just about every lombax has some form of combat training (but experience can go from a bit to none at all). The Praetorian Guard is the only active arm during peacetime, during which they function as city garrisons and the police. In wartime, however, they act as special forces/commandos, since they are trained for such all their lives (they are full-time soldiers).**

**That make sense?**

**Anyway, this was another chapter that got split into multiple chapters. I couldn't resist sticking a cliffhanger in there. Magic of Every Kind, I am NOT getting back at you for your insane amount of cliffhangers. XD**

**The rest of the 'rescue the damsel in distress' mission will follow soon hopefully.**

**As always, clicky below and type some random stuff in the box then click submit. I like reading random stuff.**


	7. Rescue

**Rescue**

Jerec suppressed a grin as he watched the scene unfold on the screen in front of him.

Never had a plan worked so perfectly.

With the sacrifice of a mere three Praetorians, he had thwarted a rescue attempt, thereby securing a large chunk of scientific knowledge for his use; cut the rescue party in half; and cornered his two most dangerous enemies, giving them no choice but to surrender.

Naturally, he would kill them before they had the chance.

It wasn't that he was a sadistic person or that he took pleasure in killing things. He didn't _want_ to kill them; especially Ratchet, the killer of Percival Tachyon. Jerec was only being practical. Both had made clear that they would not simply give up and submit themselves to the proper order of things. If Jerec's cause was to remain alive, Ratchet and Zander had to die.

Ratchet's resume spoke for itself. Even captured, he could be dangerous; a one man army at times, Jerec had no doubt.

Then there was Zander, the very existence of whom kept Jerec awake at night. No one had learnt from the past. Nobody! Didn't they remember what happened last time they trusted an alien, allowed them into the community? _Last time…_

"Sir? Are you… well?"

"I'm fine!" Jerec hissed back at the security officer beside him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Uh… sir, it's just… well, you're crying".

_Crying_. It took a few seconds for Jerec to register what that word mean. When he did, every muscle in his body tensed. It was all _his_ fault. It all started with _him_. Jerec took a breath and forced himself to relax. There was no use in getting… _emotional_.

The door to the dark room open, creating a shaft of light that cast Jerec's shadow right over the screen. Jerec looked approvingly at his own silhouette. It stood strong. It stood proud.

"S-sir?" said a weak voice from the entrance. It was female.

"What is it?" Jerec replied, turning to face the newcomer. The woman was in a guard's uniform, but their clothing seemed ill-fitting. She carried herself nervously. Jerec became irritated. How dare someone seem so… so _weak_ in his presence?

"I… I…" she said. She almost sounded like her voice was breaking; it seemed to be situated several octaves up and down at the same time, but that was absurd. Women didn't go through that, did they?

"Speak".

"Cross has escaped".

"What?"

"It was at the beginning of the raid. I went in to escort her to the safehouse, like you ordered, but she… she attacked me from behind, sir".

Jerec flexed his fingers agitatedly. So_ incompetent_.

"I was under the _impression_ that I ordered Lieutenant Rotman to see to my fiancé". Jerec hoped the woman would understand that _impression_ meant _explain yourself, and this better be good_.

"Lieutenant James Rotman at your service, sir".

Jerec took a deep breath. He should have seen this coming. Angela always talked about her latest pet project, each one crazier than the last.

"I see", he said. Jerec then turned to the security officer. "Get everyone on full alert. Tell them the prisoner is loose… and _armed_".

* * *

Angela Cross inspected her new 'weapon' as she navigated the long, empty hallways. She suddenly wished she had grabbed the guard's rifle on her way out. An empty gelanator wasn't exactly the deadliest of implements. Still, it was solid enough that it could make for an effective club in a pinch.

It was fairly easy to know which direction to run. The trail of scorch marks on the walls gave away her _rescuers_' path quite well. Angela sighed. The trail was heading _away_ from the laboratory-come-prison that she had escaped only minutes before. No plan ever went to plan, it seemed.

She jumped through the remains of a blast door and ran head-first into another guard, knocking them to the floor. Before he could recover or call for aid, they succumbed to a solid _thwack_ on the back of their skull.

Before she sprinted off again, Angela looked down at the guard's wrench; his only weapon. She made to grab it, but was stopped by something green that she saw standing against the wall: a gelatonium dispenser.

Any other day, Angela would have immediately dropped the gelanator and retrieved the wrench, but today she was feeling unorthodox. She plugged her device into the dispenser and waited for the slurping sound to finish before she pulled it out again. She nodded with satisfaction at the now full gelanator, then began down the corridor again.

It seemed the firefight had carried directly down the complex's main central passage, ignoring the countless side rooms and branching hallways. After only a minute of running, Angela spied something large blocking the way far ahead of her. She stopped, seeing that the something was solid as a brick and had a large turret mounted on top, which was pointed into a side passage to the right. It was flanked by two guards, who appeared to be shouting down the passage.

"Surrender! You've got nowhere to run!"

A muffled, indecipherable reply came echoing back.

The guards looked at each other and shrugged, then;

"What was that? We can't hear you!"

Another muffled reply. Angela recognised the voice and was glad the guards had not yet spotted her. Glad for her Praetorian training, she dashed forward on silent feet.

The guards didn't see it coming until it was too late. Another blow to the head downed one. A well-placed glob of gel on the floor sent the other crashing into the wall. They didn't get up again.

Angela looked more closely at the giant turret. It seemed to be trained on a door at the far end of the side passage. The door had a large hole in it.

A light blinked on the turret, indicating its active state. Angela regarded it for a moment, then aimed her gelanator and fired. She stuck several large globs over the joints of the turret, then another one over the small optical drive at its front. She cautiously waved a hand in front of the sensor and for a moment the turret shuddered. It then stopped.

* * *

"I said, what did you say?" shouted Ratchet through the door of the room that trapped the party of seven.

No answer came this time.

"Well, what do we do now?" he asked the rest of the group.

"Let _me_ rescue all of _you_" said Angela smugly as she ducked through the hole in the door.

Ratchet slapped himself on the forehead and kept his palm glued solidly to his face for a whole minute.

Everyone else behaved likewise.

* * *

**Jerec breaking down, Angela being awesome and Ratchet facepalming. What's not to like?**


	8. Escape Sort of

**Escape... Sort of**

It was not long before Zander and everyone that was still breathing were pounding through the hallways towards the Cobalia gel plant's spaceport. Zander had trouble keeping up, but not because he was too tired. Being the only one that hadn't used their legs prior to the headlong rush towards the plant's main entrance, Zander was jogging along almost casually while everyone else seemed to be sweating and panting from the exertion.

The thing that kept Zander from leading the pack was Angela's gaze. Every time he stepped in front of her, he could feel her eyes boring into his neck. Every time they rounded a corner, she would be letting the others past just so she could stare at him bringing up the rear for a few seconds. The constant attention was distracting in the extreme.

Oddly enough, Zander was sure that Angela's attentiveness was nothing to do with the kiss she should never have given him. He had put that behind him now, and he was sure she had also. Instead of admiration, Angela seemed to be looking at him with curiosity and wonder, as if staring at him would reveal an answer. She seemed to be struggling with something; trying to make some impossible puzzle fit together. Zander tried to ignore it and focus on not getting shot.

The group was unopposed in their escape, except for a few small blaster turrets littered around the facility which were each taken care of by a single shot from Ratchet's negotiator. The party didn't stop running during these encounters, not even waiting for the smoke to clear before forging on.

Zander had to squint as they approached the exit, having been trapped in cramped spaces with scarce artificial light for the past hour. They emerged into the daylight at the bottom of a canyon, surrounded by walkways and docking platforms. The whole area was deserted except for them.

"Shouldn't our ride be here?" asked Ratchet. A few scant nods and grunts followed, indicating he was not the only one that was confused.

Captain Matthews raised his wrist communicator.

"Dragon-bird, come in. Do you copy?"

The answering signal was distorted and scratchy, but Zander could clearly hear the panicking voice of their escape pilot.

"_I copy, Dragon-lizard"._

"Where are you?" demanded Matthews. "ETA was two minutes ago!"

"_Agh… I was detected when I made my first landing attempt… under heavy surface-to-air fire… re-attempting landing. I'm coming over the ridge now"._

The droning of engines filled the air as the squad's drop ship swooped over the facility from behind, followed by several streams of plasma. The ship ducked under the ridge, avoiding the streams, and swiftly turned to make a quick pick-up as it continued descending. It came to hover just in front of the platform that the squad was on, and the front hatch opened.

"Go!" shouted the squad's captain, and began to charge towards the hatch.

Just then, something small and very fast sliced through the air and slammed into the aft of the drop ship. The shockwave from the missile's impact plucked Captain Matthews cleanly off the ground and tossed him back into the entrance of the plant, where he collapsed and was still.

Meanwhile, the squad scrambled to get to safety as the drop ship lurched forwards over the platform. It swayed this way and that while the pilot struggled to maintain control with only the maneuvering jets, before dropping like a stone and filling Zander's ears with the familiar grating of metal as it came to rest half-on, half-off the platform.

Time seemed to freeze as the ship creaked, then ever so slowly tipped towards the pit below. Everything fell silent when gravity to hold of the drop ship and it plunged.

Zander ran to the edge and looked over, hoping to see the pilot regaining control. He was rewarded only by a burst of orange fire when the ship collided with the cliff face on its way down. He could feel the wave of heat rushing past him, and he knew that there was now no getting off the planet.

Zander swallowed. They were trapped.

"Everyone back inside!" called Ratchet's voice from behind Zander.

Zander turned, but quickly wished he hadn't.

Inside the plant, just beyond the reach of daylight, stood twelve dark figures, their armour's red highlights glowing. In front of them Jerec was hunched over Captain Matthews' body, which was now impaled by the white lombax's wrench.

The rescue squad stopped moving, recognising they had nowhere to run. They all backed towards the centre of the platform, where Zander was still standing.

Without looking at his victim, Jerec plucked his wrench from Matthews' chest. The small blade retracted with a flick of his wrist, and he stepped into the light.

Zander stared in mixed awe and terror at the creature that he had helped to create. This was not Jerec anymore. This was a white beast; far more terrifying than even the leviathan that had torn Private Lakar to shreds. The beast's fur was no longer a pure silvery white. It had multiple bloodstains. It was not his own blood. A feral look dominated the beast's eyes, a slight twitch flickering across his features.

"Kill them!" He barked.

As one, the Shadow Praetorians wavered out of existence, and the would-be rescuers prepared for their deaths.

Suddenly a small boxy freighter leapt up and over the platform and swung around the rescue party, blocking Jerec from view. A side hatch opened and a tall thin blue-skinned being leant out. He was wearing a slouch hat, an eye patch and wielded a very large knife. On his shoulder sat a bright red parrot.

"Git in!" he shouted with a thick accent.

Ratchet bounded forward without delay.

Zander followed Ratchet almost immediately, realising who the newcomer was, and everyone else followed a moment later.

The Smuggler stepped inside as one by one the lombaxes jumped through the hatch and the winds generated by the freighter's lift generators billowed about.

Zander, Ratchet, Clank and two of the soldiers were safely inside when the last member was climbing in.

"Aagh!" he screamed as he fell back and almost landed on the Shadow Praetorian that had just fired the lethal shot.

The Smuggler slapped a button on the freighter's controls and the hatch closed.

"Well, too bad fer him, but we're on a tight schedule" he grunted as he pulled away from the platform and kicked the thrusters into gear.

Up and up the freighter climbed, each second passing meaning they were a second further from death.

The Smuggler looked over his shoulder.

"Now, friends, I hope y'all realise that this ain't no free ride. I'm expectin' payment".

"Fine!" hissed Ratchet. "Just engage the warp drive already!"

"Pleasure doin' business with ya".

The Smuggler reached for the switch that would launch the ship into faster-than-light travel, but then the ship rocked violently. A light by the switch started flashing and a beeping alarm sounded.

Holding onto whatever he could find, Zander made his way to the Smuggler's seat and leaned forward.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Of all the places ter land an artillery round, it hits the warp drive coolant system! We make a jump now an' we'll be nothin' more'n space dust!"

"We're all gonna die. AWK!" screeched the parrot.

"Shut up, you!" grunted the Smuggler, swatting the parrot off his shoulder.

"Sir" interrupted Clank, who had detached from Ratchet's back. "You may be able to make one short jump without risking our destruction".

The Smuggler was already tapping out new commands into the console, and the freighter rocked again. He then flicked the switch to engage the warp drive and in a fraction of a second there was an enormous green orb filling the viewport.

"Well, a' least it ain't Cobalia" said the Smuggler, and the ship began to fall.

* * *

**It's been _ages_, I know. My life has been somewhat hectic in recent weeks, what with all my essays due.**

**While I like the content of this chapter, I'm not really sure I've gotten it to flow properly. Tell me what you all think, anyway.**

**Also, my fan-fiction now has fan-art! Magic-of-Every-Kind, the writer of the fantastic "You're Not Alone", has made a cover for this story! I think it's really neat. You can find it at #/d51n4mj.**


	9. Alexander Renn

**Alexander Renn**

The first thing that Zander did when he regained consciousness was to roll his eyes. This was now the seventh time he had fainted or been knocked out within a couple of months. Before the run-in with the freak inter-dimensional wormhole behind his local service station, he could not remember missing a moment of reality outside of sleep.

Only after his momentary musings on his own misfortune did Zander sit up and look about the dimly lit circular room. Scattered across the worn stone brick walls were dozens of small gems of every colour, each glowing with a faint inner light. His bed, which was far softer than its grey surroundings, was on one side of the room, while a trace of daylight crept through the gap under the door on the opposite side. The sounds of birds, childish squeals and hushed conversation came through the knotted wooden barrier.

Surreal as the situation was, at least he was no longer being shot at.

Zander stood and realised that he was still in his regular black attire, but that his jacket, boots and gloves had been placed at the foot of the bed. It only took him a few moments to pull on his boots, but just as he reached for his jacked the door swung open with a loud creaking. Angela stepped out of the sunlight with a tray of blue-grey mush which Zander assumed was meant to be food.

"Good", she said with a satisfied smirk upon seeing him. "Ratchet owes me ten bolts".

Zander twitched one ear.

"Anything I should know about?" he asked.

"With the bump you got, Ratchet thought you would be out cold for two days, but I said one and a half".

It was then that Zander's brain chose to register the painful throbbing coming from his right temple. He winced and raised his fingers to his face. There was a large mound of flesh with a piece of, coarse fabric plastered across it.

"Nobody had any nanotech left after we fixed Private Tyre's broken arm", she said, "So you got the best and worst of the crash, depending on how you look at it".

Zander lowered his arm.

"No use complaining. Who have we still got with us? I lost count before we made the jump".

Angela took a deep breath and raised her fist.

"There's Ratchet, Clank and the Smuggler" she said, raising a finger as she said each name. "…and we've still got privates Tyre and Parka, plus you and me makes seven. We could have landed on worse planets than Quantos, though. The fongoids have taken us in while we wait for someone to notice our distress signal". Angela then gestured back to the bed and held up the tray in front of her. "After you've eaten, the others will want to see you, and I've got a few things to discuss with you privately".

Zander looked at her.

Angela looked away.

"Well, more than a few things" she said, glancing at him only for an instant. "Eat up. Don't worry; it's pretty tasteless".

Zander sat and hastily wolfed down the mush, trying not to think about its colour. Angela was right about it being tasteless. It probably had little nutrition to speak of, but it cured his case of an empty stomach quickly.

Leaving the tray beside the bed, Angela led Zander outside into a large, circular stone courtyard. To the left was a steep pyramid topped by a temple with a pair of heavy stone doors. In the centre of the courtyard was a towering statue of a bipedal goatlike creature in ceremonial dress, at the base of which was a small plaque. The rest of the skyline was taken up by lush greenery peeking over the rooves of more stone buildings. Fongoids, the same blue creatures as depicted by the statue, milled about individually and in small groups.

In one corner, a band playing wooden pipes and drums performed for a small throng of wide-eyed giggling children, who unlike their parents had no horns. They were however losing their audience to the Smuggler, who was producing consistent _ooh_s and _aah_s juggling knives while leaning against a nearby wall. Zander stopped following Angela for a few moments to watch the Smuggler, who dipped his head with a sly grin in acknowledgement, his eyes invisible under his hat's wide brim.

Anyone could go soft for children, he thought.

Zander caught up with Angela, who was receiving bolts from a half-glaring, half-smirking Ratchet on the other side of the courtyard in the shade of an overhanging branch.

"Where are the other three?" Zander asked as he approached.

Ratchet stuffed his now-empty hand back into his pocket.

"The last I saw of Clank was of him being dragged away by Vanessa's kids. They've never seen a robot that wasn't blasting at them before, so he might come back in a few months or something. The other two are down by the main entrance on guard duty".

"Guarding against what?"

"That's what _I_ asked them" Ratchet said, raising his hands and flattening his ears against his scalp. "They gave me a bunch of lines about protocol and not having a new officer or something. You might be able to order them to relax a bit, but even then they might insist they need word from the army".

Zander nodded. The army did seem to think that navy staff were a bit sissy, and he could understand where that came from. He still disagreed, however. It was hard to take cover from a gun that had a barrel the size of a building. "I'll have a word with them about it" he said and, seeing Angela was shuffling awkwardly, took his leave.

Angela led Zander through a myriad of dark, cramped paths and passageways that Zander was certain he would lose himself in at any time, though the burning in his legs confirmed that the route she took climbed steadily. Gradually, the sounds of society dimmed to a quiet echo. Eventually they came to a small ladder leading up the side of a solid-looking wall, which she climbed. When Zander followed suit and got to the top, he gasped.

Before him were a set of age-worn battlements, and beyond them was a descent into a vast ocean of jungle canopy, broken in places only by occasional small blue lakes. The only audible sound was the slight breeze brushing past his ears. A quick glance over his shoulder told Zander that the courtyard was barely 100 metres away, as he could clearly see the pyramid and the top of the statue's decorated staff.

Angela swung her legs over the edge of the wall, which was clearly the village's outermost defence, and settled on a moss-covered outcropping. Zander did the same to her immediate left. He took a moment to absorb the view before saying anything.

"Why are we here?" he asked.

Angela took a deep breath. "One, we can't be overheard" she said. "Some of the things I'm about to tell you could do some real damage if they got out. Two, I can't imagine anyone breaking the calm up here, and calm is good". She paused before adding "Three, it's a nice view".

"You've been planning this. Should I be worried?"

"You should decide that after I've said everything I have to. Let's tackle the minor things first".

"Right", Zander affirmed. "What did Jerec want with you on Cobalia?"

Angela shuffled on her makeshift seat. "Actually, the minor thing is what I did on Fastoon".

Zander blinked and snapped his gaze around at her. "Kissing me is minor?"

"You'll believe me when I tell you the major news. Anyway what I want to say is that I want to apologise for putting you in that position. I'd just lost the person that filled that role, and right then you were there for me so you were the closest thing to that person. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Zander hummed. "I don't think I can easily forget it, but I can understand. I have to apologise as well. I haven't really thanked you for all the help you've given me".

"No problem".

"So, uh… what's the _major_ issue then?"

Angela looked up to the sky and huffed. "Zander, you said you were raised by your mother didn't you?"

"Uh… yes".

"And you never knew your father?"

"No, but Uncle Mark helped out with 'the talk' when the time came".

"Zander, Jerec wanted me to find a way to change you back into a human, which I was already doing anyway, but that's beside the point. I looked at your DNA a bit more closely. There's something you should know about your father".

* * *

-17 years earlier-

"No! Mark, please!"

As Mark Harton burst through the set of large glass doors in his office clothing, he wondered how he had come to be pushing his shy next-door neighbour in his mother's wheelchair. That morning had been like any other; get out of bed at 6:30, have breakfast, have a three-minute shower, get dressed, watch the news until 7:00, then leave his house for work. The only thing that was different was the pained groaning coming from number 23. If he hadn't investigated, he might have never felt obliged to go through all of this.

"It's going to be fine, Triya" he urged over her shoulder. "We're almost there".

"No, Mark! You don't… understand!" she screamed back, clutching her bloated belly.

_I'm not dumb Triya_ he almost snapped back. It wasn't that he _liked_ to torment his neighbours, even though at the moment she was more the tormenter than he was. The problem was that she refused to call a bloody midwife. Dragging her to the hospital was his only honourable option.

The nurses had obviously dealt with hysterical future mothers before, because none of them batted an eye at her... well, hysterics.

"No! You can't have it! You can't!" she screamed as the wheelchair disappeared around the corner, leaving Mark to collapse on one of the foyer's chairs. "YOU CAN'T TAKE MY BABY FROM ME!"

Mark took the resuming hour-or-something as an opportunity to explain why he wouldn't be at work that day.

"_You know the going policy is to tell your workplace that your wife is pregnant before the baby comes, Mister Harton"._

"She's not my wife", Mark sighed into the phone. "She's my neighbour. She was-"

"_Oh, in that case, I can give you three days plus this weekend"_.

"I don't need _that_ much. Just today is fine".

"_Very well. See you on Thursday"._

"Thank you, sir".

"_And from one friend to another, Mark, be more careful around women next time, if you understand me"._

"What? But I'm not-"

The Boss hung up.

"…the father".

The hour-or-something after that was spent mainly at the hospital's small cafeteria with only a strong cappuccino for company, but in time Mark felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Are you Triya Renn's husband?" asked the nurse, who was covered in sweat but was not breathing hard.

"She's not my- oh, never mind. How is she?"

"She and the baby are fine. You can see them if you want".

Triya and her baby boy, as it turned out, seemed quite happy with their lot. She was obviously exhausted, but didn't seem to mind the bundle that clutched to her chest, keeping her awake with rather loud slurping sounds. To be fair, this _was_ his first meal.

"I'm sorry for the way I was earlier, Mark" she said sleepily. "I was just worried about him looking like his father".

Mark flopped down in the chair that was set beside Triya's bed. "It's fine. Really". He looked at the baby. "Miracles happen like that".

Triya pulled her son closer. "Yes. My little Alexander, the miracle".

* * *

"What do you mean? What about my father?" asked Zander, now locking eyes with Angela.

"I checked it at least 90 times, Zander. Your genetics are only half-human. Your father was a lombax".

* * *

**Dun-dun-duuuuunnnn!**

**Well, it has been a while, but I hope it has been worth it for my wonderful readers (and especially wonderful reviewers). I hope this whole revelation (which is only a third of Zander's family history, although I will reiterate that Jerec is **_**not**_** Zander's father) doesn't seem too silly. I figure it is less silly than someone turning into a lombax by pure chance. I also do have a scientifically plausible explanation (plausible as far as sci-fi is concerned, anyway).**

**On that note, I have some bad news.**

**I will not go into specifics, but suffice to say that my life has taken a few sharp turns recently. As a result, my internet access is extremely limited and I will not be able to post any more chapters **_**until further notice**_**. I fully intend to keep writing chapters, but the act of submission itself will be very difficult. This is most likely to go on for anywhere between 6 months and a year.**

**Thank you all for all the support you have shown me in writing this story. It's funny, actually; Zander was originally my nerd's-wet-dream version of myself, but now I feel like he is a unique individual with thoughts and feelings completely independent of my own. The power of the written word, eh? Who knows what the future will bring for him? ;)**

**Hopefully at the end of all my life troubles I will be able to make a comeback and possibly post the rest of Book II. I have to tell you, the finale I have planned out is truly epic, and may not go the way many expect.**

**In summary, thank you dearly for reading and for reviewing and watch this space for more in what is the ideal future.**

**Sorry if I ramble a bit. =P**


	10. Science and Sarcasm

**Science and Sarcasm**

Zander laughed.

He didn't laugh because Angela's claim was amusing, or absurd, or even because it was surprising, despite it being all of those things. The real reason he laughed was that it prevented him from having to come up with any other reaction. Exactly how _was_ one supposed to react to the news that their father was a completely different species? That meant that Zander's mother… _Oh, God_. He stopped laughing. If he ever got back to his own world, his mother had better have a good explanation. _Speaking of good explanations…_

He looked back at Angela.

She didn't need asking before she took a breath and began. "First, Zander, you need to know a few basic things about genetics. Bear in mind this is very generalised and simplified so most people can understand it. Each person has two sets of genes; one from their mother and one from their father. Each gene in each set pairs up with the corresponding gene from the other. With me so far?"

Zander gave a slow, silent nod.

"Good. Now, each gene can be either _dominant _or _recessive_. If a dominant gene pairs up with a recessive gene, the dominant gene is the one that ends up having an actual impact on the physical appearance of the individual. So, simply put, if blonde fur was dominant and black was recessive, then you would end up with blonde fur. However, the black would remain dormant in your genetic structure, potentially being passed on to the next generation. Understood?"

Zander again nodded, but added; "So if you got two recessive genes together, they would show up?"

"Exactly, only both would have an impact instead of just one. Say you had genes for black and red fur. You'd probably end up having a mix of both, possibly in patches or mixing to result in _dark_ red fur, but that's irrelevant to you".

An idea started to form in Zander's head, but he let Angela continue anyway.

"As it turns out, Zander, nearly all of the genes you inherited from your mother were dominant. The ones that weren't were just from junk sections of your genetic code, which most every species has to some extent. Whether human genes are naturally dominant over lombax genes, or all of what you inherited from your father was recessive, it resulted in you looking and by all rights _being_ physically human".

Zander lowered his head in thought. It was a long shot, but if a genetic engineer thought it was possible… He then took the logic, and followed it. "So when the nanites changed me, they were just-"

"-repairing what _they_ saw as a damaged genetic structure, yes. It was nothing to do with Ratchet, and repairing your injuries was a completely different operation".

One by one, the pieces of the puzzle in Zander's mind fell into place. But there was one last piece missing; one that he did not previously know existed: The identity of his father. His thoughts were interrupted by a beeping from his wrist comm. He raised his arm. "What is it?"

"_Zander, you might want to come back to the square. Jerec's demanding you turn yourself in again"._

"What, after we just escaped him?"

"_The signal's coming from orbit"._

_Great._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Lo and behold, from the blackness of space returns MrBlack103!**

**How long has it been since posting a chapter here? Six months? Eight? It feels good, regardless. I would be lying if I said that I had not been tempted to abandon this project altogether. I've had to re-read much of my own work to re-acquaint myself with this whole shebang. In the end, though, I feel that I owe it to myself (and my reviewers. Can't forget those) to finish book II at the very least.**

**For those who might ask, my life has taken a few more sharp turns since my last chapter, but in recent weeks I seem to have gained some sense of stability. I also have a general idea of where I'm going next, so all is good.**

**In regards to this chapter, I've discovered that if I re-wrote the entire Omniverse Chronicles up to this point (unlikely), I would definitely include a bit more foreshadowing. That I have to have Angela explain basic genetics for some sentences is in hindsight somewhat poor planning. I just hope that, barring a minor bit of "WTF?" from my readers, I managed to cover all the bases. Any biologists among you may want to debate the possibility of the scenario outlined above. I welcome this, and will point out that this is amateur fan-fiction based on a sci-fi video game universe which contains groovitrons, morph-o-rays and sonic eruptors.**


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